


For Ours is the Kingdom

by edenbound



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 00:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21419290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have been snatching moments together almost since the very beginning, whenever they believed themselves unobserved. And now things have to change.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 96





	For Ours is the Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this "asexual Crowley", but it's not necessarily 100% clear in the fic, though, because it's third-person limited to Aziraphale and it's pretty short and they are terrible at talking about it. So to clarify, Crowley isn't interested in sex himself, but he's not repulsed, and he is interested in being close to Aziraphale however he can get it, and he is very aware that Aziraphale craves sexual intimacy as well. Crowley isn't always in the mood, but sometimes he is, and his consent is very enthusiastic despite his lack of sex drive. His drive is to make Aziraphale happy. There are lots of ways of being asexual! As many as there are asexual people, most likely.

"I've got you now," Crowley says, a laugh and a growl in one, his body pressing Aziraphale's into the wall in a side street, and his mouth so hot and sweet against his throat. "Mine." Mine, just for a few moments, is the unspoken corollary, but Aziraphale isn't going to bring that up now. He holds onto Crowley -- holds onto his narrow hips and digs his fingers into his flesh. In just a moment, they should stop; they are in public, they just performed miracles to save one another -- no doubt there will be eyes on them soon, if they aren't already. Aziraphale will care about that, in just one more moment.

It doesn't always happen like this. Crowley is not always interested in this, in sex, in sensuality and physicality. Aziraphale is sure that sometimes, in their snatched moments in history, Crowley has _made_ himself be interested, made himself into the thing Aziraphale needs so that they can be closer, leave their marks on one another in a way heaven and hell do not understand or condone. Crowley is not a sexual being, but he knows that _Aziraphale_ is, and he indulges him in the same way that he always knows just where they should dine and which wine to order. Aziraphale wants to drink him in, and Crowley obliges as he is obliging now, dragging his mouth up along Aziraphale's throat and then kissing him.

Aziraphale does not think it is _always_ just obliging, though. Sometimes, it is just pure hunger; this closeness is something they can remember when they part again, a way to compact years of closeness into the minutes where they know themselves to be unobserved. If it were just obliging him, Aziraphale thinks, Crowley would not shiver so in his arms, would not gasp at every nip of teeth, at the moment when Aziraphale's impatient hand finds bare skin.

\---

It's all over. They've won, they've put the apocalypse back in the bottle -- or Adam has -- and now they are dining together at the Ritz, and Aziraphale... Aziraphale has never felt so achingly far from Crowley.

It's his own fault. Crowley had finally, finally broken open and said it, asked Aziraphale to defy heaven and hell and run away with him, and Aziraphale had said no. Aziraphale had denied everything they were as though heaven were watching (because they might have been), as though he'd never touched Crowley's bare skin (although he could still feel the electricity of it if he'd thought about it, still can _now_). As if the one occasion they had dared to properly make love, entirely bare in front of one another the night Adam came to Earth, had never happened (and it did, and the thoughts of it haven't left Aziraphale alone for a moment since).

No wonder Crowley is so very carefully avoiding his touch now, even if his laugh is easy with relief, even if he has consented to pretend they can still walk together and dine together, as they used to. Aziraphale is miserably aware, constantly, that there will be no kisses in his shop doorway, no tender bites left burning on his skin for days. 

He put an end to that himself. Proved himself less worthy, less constant, less _loving_ than a demon.

He smiles. He eats his meal and watches Crowley watching him, and tries to make it be enough.

\---

Three days later, Crowley blows into his shop like a sharp nor'easter, and customers scatter in his wake. He miracles the door locked behind them, flips the sign to closed, and advances on Aziraphale.

"I'm sick of this," is what he says, and Aziraphale's heart plummets further.

"What's wrong?" he asks, though he _knows_.

"You're acting like we still need to hide," Crowley says, flinging his hands in the air. Time does not shiver to a stop this time, but _Aziraphale_ does. "I could understand it before, when you knew we were always being watched! But you're always holding back from me now, when you don't have to. Have I -- have I been wrong all this time, angel? I've loved you, but -- was it just -- "

"Stop," Aziraphale says, hastily, because it's unbearable, the look on Crowley's face. "No, of course you weren't wrong. I -- I've loved you all this time. Of course I do. I just thought that since I," and he swallows painfully to make his throat loosen so he can get the words out, "let you down so badly..."

He barely has time to steady himself before Crowley is on him, backing him into his desk, hands cupping his face and mouth descending on his with heat, with hunger, with a moan in the back of his throat. "Angel, I -- "

"Yes," Aziraphale says, and his hands come up and clutch in Crowley's shirt. "Yes, Crowley, anything."

He knows that Crowley will not always want this, this specific way of being close. He knows too that they will need to talk, negotiate, find their new balance. But it's enough of a miracle for this moment to have Crowley here, in his arms and sating his fierce need to be touched and to touch in return. It's enough of a miracle to know they are unobserved and will _remain_ unobserved. On the same side, forever and ever, amen.


End file.
